


A Broken Savoir

by So_many_issues



Series: Breaking [6]
Category: SPN, Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Abused Dean Winchester, DON'T LET ME TRIGGER YOU, Dean Needs A Hug, Emotional Abuse, F/F, Gen, Hurt Dean, Hurt Dean Winchester, Mental Health Issues, Mentions of past abuse, Sam Finds Out, Self Harm, Suicidal Dean, Suicidal Thoughts, carving, i dunno, internalzation, please, read the tags, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-16 18:11:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12347898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/So_many_issues/pseuds/So_many_issues
Summary: Dean is still dealing with his mental illnesses, but he makes a wrong right.





	A Broken Savoir

**Author's Note:**

> wow 2 in 1 day. It's cuz it was national coming out day so I'm coming out of cave (and i've been doing ust fine). i mean Im also bi and trans and all that but i needed a holiday so 
> 
> BUT more to the point. this is how it ends. sorry if it's not the emotional porn we all wanted but it's what i felt would be realistic. a little goes a long way. any way. here you go. 
> 
>  
> 
> sorry

The carvings covered him, screaming just how broken and dirty he was. How much of a freak, abomination, fuck-up, a sin he was. He used to wonder how people could do this to themselves, and now, he wondered how people didn’t. Whatever, he was just weaker than everyone else. He had enough evidence to sway the case in his favor. And maybe that’s what Sam was realizing as he stood there staring at the words Dean had carved into himself. They made brief eye-contact before dean slid his jeans over his legs.

“You can’t just pretend nothing happened!

“Tell me, Sammy, what did happen? You finally realize what a fuck-up big brother is? Gonna leave me again?” Sam just stood there shocked,

”Yeah, looks like you finally agree with Dad on something.” And with that Dean grabbed his jacket and hit the bar.

***********************************************************************************

The smell of liquor was nauseating. It invaded his nostrils and gave him a headache. The air that filled the dimmed bar was the same as the air that chocked him with the tension when it became clear his father was drunk, and the air that filled with the poison words John spat at him. Dean remembers those words being branded into his mind with every crack of the belt. He remembered the feeling of his own blood draining from his body and the screaming of his body that he couldn’t. He felt that now, and he felt it twenty-two years ago. The smoke that strangled him, like his own cries of pain would, when the amber liquid that surrounded him now, had gotten the best of John. Dean felt as if the world was tumbling down around him like the oxygen was melting down like the world he saw. Bitter frost bit him as the ruined watercolor painting changed around him among the falling world, he felt two reliable surfaces surround him. His fingers brushed through his hair. Dean felt his coarse hair under his hands and reminded himself that he was here. He was real. The world wasn’t falling. But no amount of empty promises and false hope could replace the air that felt as if it was dissipating. He squeezed his eyes tight. Maybe the world wouldn’t be falling if he couldn’t see it. But as hard as he tried the sense of doom wouldn’t go away.

**_He needed out_ **

**_Out_ **

**_Please_ **

**_Out_ **

**_Please_ **

**_Please dear god get me out_ **

**_I can’t do this_ **

**_Please_ **

**_Get me out_ **

**_Out_ ** .

He could feel everything now. Every touch, every kiss, every dirty word whispered into his ear with hot breath that smelled of alcohol. All for a cheap buck, but that was really all he was worth anyway. He was  **_worthless._ ** And lighting coursed through his body and sent liquid fire up the scar. He couldn’t even keep the memory lisps hidden from his brother. Dean was a  **_Screw-Up_ ** . Another bolt hit him and the words on his legs were a flame.  How selfish could he get, dragging Sam away from his normal life, the one thing he’d ever wanted, to find the father that abused him. Before the bolt even landed, Dean saw just how  **_incapable_ ** he was. Yeah, he was selfish and screwed up and the world would be better without a freak like him around. The bolt shot through the scars that screamed just how much of a  **_Failure_ ** he was. The hits just kept coming and the storm just got worse and worse. Everything was blurred and smeared and all he wanted to do was  **_STOP._ ** But there was never enough oxygen and the air only grew thinner and thinner as his mountain of insecurities and failures grew within him.

**_No_ **

**_Stop it_ **

**_Stop_ **

**_I said stop_ **

**_STOP_ **

But the storm of emotion that possessed him now stayed wild up until the moment the world faded to black.

Maybe he was dead

Gods he hoped so

He wondered how long it will be until they realize how broken he was. How much weight had really been on his shoulders, and how useless they were to help him? The damage has been done. And now he is broken. And all there is an agonizing sense of nothing. Death is kind to us children. So sweet, and so simple, He accepts the freaks, and the fuck-ups, and everyone who doesn’t belong. And that is why he is, and always will be, drawn.

Dean blinked his way into existence. The artificial light from the street lamp blinded him.

“Dean?” A soft voice came. He knew that voice. That was the voice that used to beg him for Lucky Charms. That was voice used to insist that they go to the library on weekends. That voice used to idealize him. That was the voice he sold himself for. That was the voice he gave everything for.

“Dean, what happened?” He loved that voice. That voice was Sam’s and he decided a long time ago that he couldn’t let him see what was inside. Dean’s walls were up in an instant.

“Nothing. Why am I laying in a dirty ass alley anyway?”

“You tell me, I came out looking for you and some guy said you were out here.” It all came back to Dean. Fuck, Sam saw his stupid girly scars and he was too much of a pussy to handle some fucking alcohol. Nice Winchester. And that stupid ass panic attack had been so humiliating, and a fucking stranger noticed. He didn’t help though. Maybe Dean didn’t deserve it. Maybe Dean was better off dead because that’s all he wanted to do. Just die. But he couldn’t take care of Sam from the grave.

Wait that was it.

Dean cursed himself.

He quickly stood up, confusing Sam;

“Dean what are you doing. We obviously have some things to talk about. I’m worried about you, Dean.”

“Save it for the soap operas Samantha, I just figured out the case.”

“What? You know who the ghost is?”

“Yeah, you would too if you took two seconds to think about the case.”

“Dean, come on.”

“Yeah, yeah shut up for a second. Pride started off as a riot in like 1968 right?”

“Where are you going with this?”

“Okay listen, Pride wasn’t a safe thing, honestly it’s not really a safe thing now, but when people heard the voices of LGBT+ people, there was automatic discrimination.”

“I’m still not understanding why you're telling me this.”

“How are you the smart one?” he said with a smile, “But pride was started by trans women of color, and what’s Eden?”

“Uhhh a trans woman of color?”

“Exactly. And she was in love with Olive. But once the Riots ended and they started growing older, they started to settle down. But it was hard to settle down once your name is out and I think Olive was killed in a hate crime that was probably just covered up due to the nature of the thing and the time it happened.”

“Okay, forgetting how the hell you know that, why is she killing people now?”

“Because once she died she couldn’t protect her anymore, something she swore to do after the revolution. The nurses at that nursing home? They're abusing the elderly, including her. You can see the bruises, and she’s killing everyone trying to hurt her. And I bet if you go back in the records, other death’s like this happened, where people that try to come after her die.”

“So now what do we do? I mean we have to burn her right?” Dean sighed.

“No, I think, for once, let’s let the police take down these sons of bitches. Humans, that’s their territory.”

``````````````````````````````````````````````````````````

Dean cursed as the old wood creaked under his weight. This place was probably older than its patients. He crept into the old lavender-scented room. The darkness consumed everything in the room. The room suddenly filled with the quacking breath of an old woman.

“Eden?”

“Who’s there?” Her voice shook, and fear laced through every word she spoke.

“Eden it’s me, Dean. I just wanted to thank you, I don’t know what I would have done if it wasn’t for you.” Eden relaxed and grabbed Dean’s hand.

“I’m sorry son, I wish I could’ve done more.”

“You gave me a safe place, and resources. That was everything for me. You’re an angel.” He laughed “ guess my mom was right when she said there were angels looking after me.”

Sam sat outside in the Impala, waiting for Dean to finish whatever he needed to. He sighed and sat back. Elderly abuse. Dean had been able to see it so easily, the nursing home looked so normal. But so did most domestic abuse cases. That’s what Sam kept telling himself. Sam felt like such an idiot. Dean was an amazing brother, he was righteous, awesome, a protector, his role model, and then those words carved into him. Sam couldn’t understand it. But then he remembered a night at the bar, with one of his friends, a psych major, was telling him about abuse victims. He had said that in most cases there is an element of verbal abuse to it, and then the victims internalize those words. The carvings had to stem from somewhere. Sam thought back to his childhood. He remembered that Dean would never let himself be naked in the motel, whereas Sam never cared, it was their motel after all. Sam thought back to the last time they stayed here.  He remembers being scared out of his mind when Dean came home and passed out. HE remembered begging Dad to let him see Dean, and then he and Dean walk out a little while later. He- Gods he was an idiot, he remembered yelling at Dean. And then Dean gave him money. And then that time at the police station. Where he begged Dean to get them out. Could have Dean gotten help if he hadn’t asked? That was probably why he was pulled in in the first place. How could he be so daft, those questions? And then again at Bobby’s, when he came downstairs and Dean immediately pulled on his shirt and went into a corner. He remembered the curt order from Bobby to go away, something he thought he’d never hear from Bobby. He remembered the pure rage in his eyes as he asked John for a little ‘talk.’ And it made sense when Bobby threatened them with a rifle.  Every time Dean would grimace when they roughhoused too hard, every time he found bloody bandages in the trash, every time he refused to let Sam patch him up after a hunt, every tense glare between Dean and John, every time Dean would send Sam to his room for seemingly no reason. Dean was trying to protect him. Dean gave him the childhood he never got. It made sense why Dean could act so childish now because he was finally relaxing a little, and Sam would roll his eyes at it.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?” Dean’s hands ran along the smooth leather of his baby, he fidgeted with the key between his fingers, waiting for Sam’s speech or whatever before he started up the car.

“I love you, thanks for, uh, looking out for me as a kid. I can’t imagine I was easy.” Dean smiles as he stuck the key in the ignition.

“Understatement of the year.”


End file.
